


Tell Them When They're Here

by a_fandom_affliction



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester's A+ Parenting, Dean is a sentimental loser, Kinda, No really Dean is a good parent, Not as sad as it sounds oops, Other, Parent Sam, Sad Cas, Sad Dean, This is cute, Uncle Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_fandom_affliction/pseuds/a_fandom_affliction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean isn't sure when his life went to the shits, but - oh, wait, yes he is. He knows exactly when, and it has to do with a nerdy little angel and a hairy skyscraper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Them When They're Here

 

 

Dean wakes up.

 

 

 

It’s an Average Joe kind of day outside. The sky is blue, but not cloudless. The grass is green, but not overwhelmingly so. The fresh scent of last night’s rain is heavy, but dead worms litter the sidewalks. It’s an alright day, and Dean decides to go out.

 

The sun is warm - but not scalding - on the back of Dean’s neck as he walks down the street. Birdsong mingles with the rumble of cars, and a few sycamore trees drip water onto the back of his neck.

 

He passes houses filled with families, though whether they are happy, he doesn’t know. For the brief moment that they cross his mind, Dean hopes that their lives turn out alright.

 

It’s nearly four by the time his feet leave the pavement. Now he’s treading quietly across well-trimmed grass. The afternoon light glints on the ring he still wears on his left hand. He isn’t sure why he does, exactly, but it makes him feel better.

 

He weaves between the polished stones, his head held high and shoulders relaxed. He’s comfortable here, amid the statues and flowers and trees. It’s their home, so it’s Dean’s home, too.

 

His knees creak as he lowers himself onto the grass. The familiar ground is damp, but it doesn’t bother Dean. He lays back, and closes his eyes.

 

“Hey, Sammy,” he greets gruffly. “Hey, Cas.” He takes his time picking his next words, because Cas and Sam never mind the wait. They are patient. Dean’s grateful for that, as it takes him a while to concentrate, sometimes.

 

“Your son's doing great,” he tells his brother, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s almost crazy how much he's like you…” Dean's mind loses track of the conversation as he sits between his brother and his angel, speaking of his nephew, Bobby. He has so much to tell Sam about the little guy, because Sam's missed so much. He tells his brother how he took Bobby to his first day of his senior year of high school last week, and how Bob’s got a girlfriend. He even touches on the subject of how he's thinking of telling Bobby the truth about his dad, but he guesses from Sam’s silence that Sam doesn't want that. Dean doesn't mind. Bobby is happy being a normal teenager.

 

“And, Cas, it's so weird, sometimes…” Dean goes on to tell Cas about all the little things he'd noticed on the way to visit, because Cas likes that stuff. Dean does his best to describe the different insects and birds he'd seen, and what they were doing. He tries hard to remember all of the little details and colors and shapes, but it's so hard to retain that stuff. Cas doesn't blame him. Cas understands that Dean's mind isn't what it used to be. And Dean is grateful, once again, for the patience of his loved ones.

 

After a while, Dean can't think of anything else to say, so he and Sam and Cas sit in silence. It's always these moments, these little quiet minutes of nothing, that make Dean's life worth it. He knows it isn't healthy, or right, but it keeps him going. If it weren't for these visits, he's sure he'd go crazy. He'd go crazy and Bobby would be alone. And Dean promised Sam, he promised him that he would take care of the kid, so he can't. Dean isn't allowed.

 

 

 _Cas,_ he thinks. _I don't know what to do._

 

 

And then he stands up, and does his best to wick away the moisture that clings to the seat of his jeans from the grass. But it doesn't really bother him. It's almost six, and the sun is low in the sky. He thinks that the wind rustling through the nearby trees sounds an awful lot like angel wings, and for a moment, he's coasting on hope. But the moment is gone, and Dean is alone again.

 

He shakes his head and stands in front of Cas and Sam. “I'll be back tomorrow, alright?”

 

 _Alright,_ he imagines Sam saying. 

 

 

 _Alright_.

 

 

With a final look at the two grey stones, Dean turns and makes his way across the grass. He can see a familiar car parked outside the gates, and almost smiles. Bobby's a good kid, and it's nice that he thought to stop by to pick Dean up. 

 

Dean already knows what he'll dream about at night. He already knows the images he'll see. He already knows how much pain they'll bring, to see the black stares of his brother and angel over and over and over andoverandoverandoverandover. He already knows that when he wakes up, he'll be alone, save for Bobby.

 

And it's getting easier.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Here lies Sam_

_Brother_

_Father_

_Friend_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Castiel_

_Never change._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
